


This Sense of Displacement

by honeypuffed



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypuffed/pseuds/honeypuffed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is frustrated that Steve no longer needs him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Sense of Displacement

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://capkink.livejournal.com/810.html?thread=261930#t261930) prompt at the meme.

Steve doesn't really need him anymore. This is where Bucky's mind is at. Maybe the thought is unwarranted, and maybe if he confronted Steve he'd be presented with a thousand reasons why that's not true in the slightest, but Bucky won't even spare a moment to consider anything other than the black and white: Steve doesn't need him.

After all these years of saving Steve from his own stubbornness and punching him in the face all in the name of training and dragging him along to every double date he could organise, the tables have now not only been turned, but completely flipped upside-fucking-down, plates and cutlery flying across the room and shattering about the place. A knife narrowly misses Bucky's heart, and a few hit Steve but they just bounce right off. And Steve doesn't even notice.

Steve needs Howard Stark though - this Bucky can tell without a shadow of a doubt. Without Howard, Steve wouldn't be half as powerful as he is, wouldn't have his shiny shield or his nice new suit, would never have gotten flown in to save- oh fuck, even _Bucky_ kind of needs Howard. Ugh.

Maybe he's being a bit of a dick. Questions get passed along to Bucky like, _Mr. Stark needs your height measurement_ , or _Mr. Stark says he needs to see you about weaponry_ , or sometimes _Mr. Stark wants to talk to you_ , and Bucky just sends the messengers back with a simple: _No_.

Definitely a dick. 

Whatever.

Sucks to be precious Mr. Stark.

 

"When I said I needed to see you, Barnes, I meant that I _needed to see you_ ," says Howard, snatching the drink from Bucky's hand and claiming it for his own.

Bucky ignores him. Well, for the most part anyway, because it's hard to ignore Howard's expensive, silky red tie glaring at him like _I'm important you should probably listen to me_ and Howard keeps frowning as if he actually expects something of Bucky.

Howard slides into the chair opposite him and puts an elbow on the table, resting his head on his fist. "Five nine?" he guesses.

Bucky flicks his eyes up to meet Howard's and then he drops them again. Howard took his damn drink.

"Steve came up with an idea for your-"

Steve. Fucking Steve.

"Are you okay?" Howard asks, and it's only then that Bucky realises he's screwed his face up in anger and frustration and maybe something else.

He stands up, takes the drink while Howard's preoccupied and downs it, slamming the empty glass back onto the table before he storms out. Like a five year old.

Yay.

 

Howard's messengers ease up entirely over the next few days, which is relieving and also makes him feel a little guilty. Just a little. It's not like he has any way to explain it to anyone, so he hopes they all figure he's going for the angsty-teenager approach to the war because it's hard on him. Which it sort of is, but not like that, and certainly not in the ways it should be. He could have never in his wildest dreams foretold that Steve finally joining the army would also mean Steve surpassing him in absolutely everything to the point where Bucky ends up looking like a tag-along, a sidekick.

"Hey Bucky," he hears Steve's voice and oh god he really doesn't want to turn around.

"Hey," he replies, pulling his shirt on over his head. He keeps his back to Steve.

Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other and says, "Are you alright?"

Bucky pauses, hands at the hem of his shirt just waiting there. "I'm fine," he says, and then resumes movement, tugging at his shirt until it's comfortable.

"Okay, well..." Steve trails off. He places a hand on Bucky's shoulder and squeezes lightly.

Not really helping.

"You need to see Howard today. Before training."

Bucky takes a deep breath. "Fine," he says, shrugging Steve's hand away. He turns around and starts to say _Can I finished getting dressed now?_ but he gets stuck somewhere between _finished_ and _getting_ because Steve is just standing there looking dejected and worried with his shoulders slouched and he almost, for only a second, looks like the Steve that Bucky had known for so many years. "Sorry," he says quietly.

Steve bundles him up into a big warm hug that wouldn't have been possible before Captain America, and he's grateful for it all over again.

 

"Honestly, I just need your measurements," Howard is saying as Bucky stands formally, ready to kind of set things right.

"Yes, sir," he says politely, holding up his hands in front of him, palms out in surrender. So what that Steve doesn't really need Bucky anymore? So what that Howard is obviously infinitely more important to Steve, _to Captain America_ , now? Bucky doesn't really have the right to be an ass about it. This is just work.

"No chance," Howard mumbles, completely out of turn.

Bucky frowns at him, "Sorry?" and Howard just shakes his head and wraps the measuring tape around Bucky's waist.

"Didn't I do a great job with Steve?" he says suddenly, grinning, and Bucky's not sure if he's serious or not. "Practical _and_ stylish," he winks, hands lingering at Bucky's waist even though he's already got the measurement he needs.

There's a moment where Bucky is sure his heart has stopped entirely, and then it jump-starts again when Howard finally pulls away to measure over his back, from shoulder to shoulder. His fingers trail feather-light over his shoulder blades, and there's this feeling in the pit of Bucky's stomach that he knows should _not_ be there, and when Howard is done he dredges up every excuse in the book to leave as quickly as possible, ignoring Howard's curiously raised eyebrows and turned-up lips.

 

So, he probably pushed himself too hard today. And everyone notices it. But well, if he can't take out his frustration with the world during training, then when can he? He slumps down on the grass when Phillips tells him to go cool off, and it takes him a while to realise he's split his forehead, just above his eyebrow, and there's blood trickling down the side of his face. He squeezes his right eye shut before any blood gets in it and brushes it away indifferently. His heart rate is too high and christ, he's fitter than this, and when Steve sits down beside him, Bucky's first thought is _god I want to fuck him_. It's not only tables upside-down now, but the entire world.

He tries to retract the thought because it's seriously unwelcome, but it sticks there as Steve dabs at the cut with a bit of cloth and great, just great, Steve is helping him _again_.

"Thanks," he says as he stands up, touching the bandage wrapped around his head.

"Maybe you should rest," Steve says, voice forever tinged now with that low, worried tone.

"Sure," Bucky replies.

 

He doesn't. Rest, that is. Instead he traipses around, asking people along the way where he can find Howard Stark, and when he gets to the lab and Howard is there, poring over papers spread atop the bench, Bucky thinks _wow, this is a stupid idea_.

"Steve is impossible," he says anyway.

Howard looks up at him. "So are you." He pauses then adds, "Good look for you," tapping at his own forehead. "Do you need something?"

Bucky frowns and shrugs, sitting himself up on the only bare spot of bench he can find. He's not even sure why he's here, really.

Howard shoves aside some papers so he can sit up next to Bucky, a little too close. "Regret later?" he asks with a grin full of teeth, and before Bucky can even ask what he's talking about, Howard has fingers digging into Bucky's thigh and lips pressed firmly to his and this is definitely - _definitely_ \- a bad idea.

And yet it sort of works.

 

Bucky is guessing when Howard said _Regret later?_ , he'd actually meant to say _Let's do this again later_ , because regret would not normally mean letting yourself into someone's bed and tugging their shorts and shirt off as you drag your tongue up their stomach and suck their nipple into your mouth, biting and marking and fuck, Bucky is probably crazy for being okay with this, but he can't bring himself to care. He doesn't care that it's Howard on top of him, not Steve, and he doesn't even care that Steve is actually asleep across the room. It's not like he's ever subtle with women, so he's not about to change that now - especially not for someone like Howard Stark, who is practically the dictionary definition of _blatant_.

Okay, okay, so maybe he had a bit to drink earlier too, so he's a little lacking in inhibition at the moment.

All the same, he has every intention of going through with this, right here, right now. He gasps as Howard's teeth clamp down hard at the base of his neck and he spreads his legs wider so Howard can slide up closer between them. He pulls down Howard's suspenders over his shoulders and hastily undoes his fly, shoving his trousers and underwear down just far enough to grab Howard's ass and yank him in so their bodies are flush and Howard's teeth sink down even harder into his neck and Bucky curses out loud.

Steve stirs, but does not wake, and Bucky's heart threatens to beat itself to death.

Then Howard pushes into him with little more than spit as lubrication and Bucky knots his legs around Howard's waist; it would probably hurt more, but truth be told, it's not his first time (nor his second) - plus there's the alcohol factor - and when Howard is thrusting into him, he accidentally calls Bucky 'Steve', and all Bucky can manage is choked laughter amongst stifled moans and heavy breathing because they're really on the same page here.

He puts a hand on the back of Howard's head and guides their lips together, eager and sloppy. He can hear Steve stir again but he doesn't look over, just closes his eyes and imagines it were him instead. Steve's gorgeous new body, fit and firm and on top of him and in him and all over him. But when his lip is bit down on so hard he can taste blood and he opens his eyes and it's Howard, not Steve, he's kind of okay with that too.

Howard continues to fuck him into the mattress that creaks on its springs every second or third thrust and Bucky continues to drive his nails further into Howard's shoulder blades, trying to regulate his breathing but failing miserably. And when Howard's hand wraps around his cock to jerk him off in time, Bucky hazards a glance over Steve's way and fuck fuck fuck his eyes look like they're open and he only gets out, "I-" before he's coming and then Howard is too, inside of him and filling him up and riding out the last waves and Steve is _definitely_ awake now and Bucky isn't really sure what to say, not that he can anyway because his body feels like jelly and Howard is collapsed on top of him and his voice is caught in his throat.

 

Steve looks more than moderately uncomfortable the next morning.

Bucky is less than moderately regretful. He grins and then has the decency to look a little sheepish, and then he laughs. Steve is sitting on the edge of his bed, fidgeting incessantly, and Bucky just shrugs and says, "Sorry?"

"I heard-" Steve starts and then flushes a brilliant red, "-my name."

" _Oh_ ," says Bucky. "You're welcome to join us, you know." He quickly adds: "In fact, it would be most appreciated."

"Shit, Bucky," he says. "Don't joke around like that."

"Oh Steve," Bucky hums as he strides across the room and _licks_ Steve's lips. "Not really joking."


End file.
